Chapter Three #2
After splashing water on her face, she returned to the cabin where Spence had moved to a double-wide seat outside the closed door to the cockpit.
He’d taken off his tailored suit coat and rolled up the sleeves on his pale blue shirt as though prepared for work.
In front of him was a table that pulled down from the wall.
He indicated that Mollie should sit in one of the swivel chairs opposite him.
Two coffee cups rested on the table. Hers had cream.
Of course, he’d know how she drank her coffee.
“Decaf,” he said. “Right?”
“Yes.” She didn’t bother to mention her tendency toward insomnia. He probably had a full medical workup, including her prescription for Ambien. “Do you need to know anything more about my life?”
“I’m clear about what happened next,” he said. “You were contacted by WITSEC and offered another chance to join your father in the program.”
“In spite of Madison’s abduction from right under their noses. Not a great recommendation for their services but I agreed. My dad needed me.”
Her heart pumped harder, faster. She sealed her lips to prevent herself from saying too much.
When she first went into WITSEC, she imagined she could investigate Madison’s supposed murder, to find the person who laid the bomb and bring him or her to justice.
Not that she cared about vengeance. Mollie still believed Madison was alive.
Hiding somewhere. Or being held captive. Her body had never been found.
Spence reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers. Their gazes linked, and she sensed a connection. “I’m sorry about Madison’s death,” he said.
She swallowed the kind of snarky remark that she typically used to fend off sentimentality. He was being sincere, and she responded in kind. Gently, she reclaimed her hand and said, “Thank you.”
“We need to contact Marshal Tim Youngblood.”
Back to business. Kind of a relief. The proper authorities needed to be informed about the attack at her rental house in Denver. “Youngblood is going to be angry. I’m not supposed to go anywhere or do anything without letting him know.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” Spence pointed out.
“True, the bad guys came after me. But I was the one who decided to hop a plane and break the rules.”
“Think about this,” Spence said. “Somebody must have informed the gunmen of your address. WITSEC might have a leak. That’s what Youngblood ought to be investigating.”
“You’re right.”
“If you want me to make the call, you need to hire me as your legal representative.”
She liked the idea of having Spence deal with a phone call that was probably going to be difficult. He was a lawyer and would know the right thing to say to Youngblood, who had often chided her about taking risks. Still, she shook her head. “I don’t think I can afford you, Spence.”
“For you, my fee is one dollar.”
She knew better than to trust something that looked like a good deal. No such thing as a free lunch. “Just so I understand, who is paying for all this? The private jet, the rental car, your salary and expenses.”
“You really don’t get it.”
“Enlighten me.”
“When I say your great-aunt was wealthy, I’m not talking about spare change in a pickle jar. She amassed multi-millions of dollars. Cameron Law Firm handles her estate.”
She took out her wallet and peeled a buck from the six singles and two fives that were supposed to last her until the end of the month. “You’re hired.”
She reached across the narrow table and shook his hand.
Again, she felt the soothing warmth that radiated from him.
She settled back in her seat and tasted her coffee, which, of course, had the perfect ratio of cream and sugar.
Thus far, Spence had gotten everything right.
He placed an old-fashioned-looking phone with a fat antenna on the table. A satellite phone.
“I’ll put the call on speaker,” he said, “but I don’t want you to say anything.”
She nodded in agreement and watched as he tapped in the number. “How do you have Youngblood’s phone number?”
“Your father.” Spence placed his index finger across his lips to signal silence.
She heard a familiar voice answer the call. “Marshal Youngblood speaking.”
“I’m Spencer Cameron, an attorney based in Cloverdell, Oregon.
I’m representing someone you know well.” He gave the Witness Protection aliases that Mollie and her dad had been using and continued.
“This afternoon at about five thirty, Mollie was attacked at her residence in Denver by two armed men.”
“Was she injured?”
“No, sir. She was not.” Spence’s report of the incident included basic descriptions of the men, their probable weapons and their vehicle. “No words were exchanged. Mollie and I escaped unharmed.”
“Where are you now?”
“We just departed from Centennial Airport.”
“Airborne?”
“Yes.”
“Listen to me.” Youngblood’s voice grated. “I advise you to turn that plane around and come back to the hangar. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
“Not necessary.”
“I’ll decide what’s necessary and what’s not. I don’t take orders from a lawyer based in Podunk, Oregon.”
“We’re done here. I’ve reported the gunfire and informed you that Mollie and her father are no longer at the WITSEC location where you placed them. If you have other concerns, you can contact me through the Cameron Law Firm in Cloverdell.”
“Let me talk to Mollie.”
“Goodbye, Marshal Youngblood.”
Spence ended the call, made eye contact with her and flashed a smile complete with dimples. “I don’t think we’ve heard the last of him.”
“How much trouble am I in?” She sipped her coffee.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
Her gaze never left his face. For once, she was glad to be the twin who appreciated the finer things in life.
She could be dispassionate, admiring the symmetry of his features and appreciating the unusual color of his eyes.
Her hot-blooded sister would have wasted no time in seducing Spence and joining the Mile High Club.